Used Daedric Artefacts
by Tigers and Dragons
Summary: Travel with Nathan, a newly arrived Breton, as he explores the Imperial Province, finding problems and weapons aplenty, including the rare (but secondhand) Daedric Artefacts. Warning: Stories unleash all the sarcastic and frustrated comments of normal gamers. Events may or may not follow the Daedric Shrine Quests exactly.
1. Sheogorath

**The adventure begins...**

* * *

Nathan should have known what type of day he would have when he was thrown overboard from the galleon as it sailed up through Niben Bay.

It was a great introduction to the Imperial Province.

He dragged himself ashore, grimacing as his wet clothes stuck to him and his armour started chafing, dodging the vegetables being thrown at him.

"Thanks for the supplies!" He called, as the ship sailed on, and one by one the jeering faces disappeared from the deck as the rain started to fall.

"Damn leather armour! Always shrinks in the wet." He grumbled to himself, beginning to remove it. He sat down on the ground to take off his boots and took in his surroundings.

There was a shrine of some sort not far away from him, but other than the road he sat on, there was no trace of civilisation as far as the eye could see. If his geography was correct, and he checked his stolen map to confirm it, he was in Leyawiin County, a little north of the small settlement of Water's Edge. That placed him not too far from the border with Elsweyr; not that he wanted to go there right now. Blasted cats were the reason he was turfed off the ship.

As he sat there ruminating, Nathan became increasingly aware of noises. They were odd noises, sometimes loud and violent, other times down to a small hum with the occasional demented dog bark.

With nothing better to do, he picked up his armour and began walking through the forest in search of the source.

What he came across at the top of the hill, was not something he would have expected.

He always thought cults gathered after dark, with fiery torches staked out around them, burning who knew what, and with a haze of hallucinogens hanging over. The cult in front of him seemed to favour standing around in the rain, half-naked.

Nathan ducked behind a tree to avoid their view and watched them for a while. They said nothing; just wandering the clearing around the massive statue, occasionally offering wordless praise but for the most part standing around. The noises occurred haphazardly and, most surprisingly, the barking came from an Argonian. The statue, itself, was of a remarkably well-dressed gentleman, leaning on a cane.

Eventually, he tired of standing in the shadows, and so Nathan entered the clearing and approached the only sensibly dressed person present: the Dark Elf in the white robe.

"Ah, excuse me? My name is Nathan. What is this place?"

"Place. Not place? Here. Not here? Welcome to the Grove of Madness, stranger. Or go away. Who knows? Time will tell."

"Okay." Nathan leaned away from him, hoping that whatever had induced this idiocy was not still in the atmosphere. "So, it's the Grove of Madness, then? So, you're all mad."

"Killed and ate a Bosmer there. But it made me sick. Saw Lord Sheogorath in the vomitus, so that's alright. Here to sacrifice? A limb would be nice."

"Sheogorath?" Nathan pondered the name, "Where have I heard that before?"

"He might appear. Because it's raining. He loves the rain. Because it's wet! Or because it's rainy."

"Yes, it is." Nathan replied, not really listening to the madman, er elf, any more.

"Of course, you'll need an offering. I think a lesser soul gem, a head of lettuce, and some yarn will do the trick. Yes, that's what Sheogorath wants."

"What do I need an offering for?" Nathan enquired, only to be turned by the Dark elf toward the statue and given a not so gentle shove forward.

"Ah! Alright then. So it was a lesser soul gem? I'm sure I've got one of those here." Nathan dug around in his pack, finally finding what he sought, right at the bottom.

"A head of lettuce." He paused as the Nord let out a high-pitch giggle. Nathan shuffled away from him, disturbed. "And what else was there? Yarn? As if you'd carry that around."

He closed his pack, glancing around the clearing again. The Dark Elf was standing nearby, back turned. Nathan's eyes narrowed as he scanned the robe.

_Technically, it __**is**__ yarn._ He thought to himself, surreptitiously sneaking closer, still searching for a loose bit. He found one, near the ground, along the frayed edges of the garment. Sure, it wasn't white anymore, nor was it in good condition, but the elf had only asked for yarn.

He crouched down, waiting for his moment as the Elf turned to look behind him, then he swooped in and grabbed it, pulling it loose and leaving the hem all bunched up.

"AH HAH!" He yelled, falling over backwards in his excitement. The cult members didn't seem at all fazed by the sudden outburst

"Yes, well. Uh, now what?"

As if answering his rhetorical, undirected question, the imperial man with no pants on, stood up and approached the shrine. He hummed a little tune-less tune, turned on the spot and returned to his seat, mounting the bench sideways and pinching himself.

"Thank you, I guess." Nathan murmured, turning towards the statue, "Here goes nothing." He walked up to the pedestal and shoved the three items haphazardly at the statue's feet.

Nothing happened.

Nathan stared up at the statue, eyebrow raised in question, only to fall back in shock as the statue's eyes darted down to look at him, and the figure seemed to shake off a layer of masonry to view him properly.

**Another mortal dares to summon me and already I'm bored. But enough about me. Let's talk about you.**

"Alright, what do you…." Nathan was cut off as the Daedric Prince surveyed him with a wicked gleam in his eye.

**I could turn you into a goat. Or a puddle, or a bad idea. I could make you eat your own fingers. Or fall in love with a cloud.**

"Can I refuse now?" Nathan squeaked, backing away.

**Perhaps I could make you into something useful. Let's find out.**

Nathan breathed a sigh of relief, before stepping closer to hear the details.

**There's a small settlement called Border's Watch. It's a nice, peaceful place… and dull dull dull. You're going to make their lives interesting. They're a superstitious bunch, everything has to be an omen or a portent. Let's make one come true. Find their shaman and ask about the K'Sharra Prophecy.**

"Ok, so I guess the rest of the mission will reveal itself then?" Nathan asked, as the statue delivered one last wink and returned to stone. "Excellent."

* * *

Scouting has always been a strength of his, so Nathan set about doing what he did best: skulking around in the undergrowth. It didn't take him long to find the village in question.

He watched them for a little while, assessing the situation. Walking into a town without a little prior knowledge can be disastrous; he knew from previous experiences. Worse mistake of his life, just wandering into an Orcish village. (Though, to be fair, he had had to scale six feet wall to enter, so that should have been his first clue.)

This town, however, appeared to be home to a number of Khajiit, and though they all carried weapons and armour of varying sorts, they seemed peaceful enough.

Sure enough, the smiles they exchanged with each other remained the same as they noticed his entrance and he was quickly approached by a tan fellow in a dark robe.

"Welcome to Border Watch, Stranger. You are welcome here. I am Ri'Bassa, Shaman of our people."

_How easy was that?_ Nathan thought to himself, before turning on his charm.

"Oh, you're the shaman? I wonder if you could tell me about something. See, I heard about this prophecy awhile back and I wondered if you knew it. The Kish Sharra? Did I say it right?"

Ri'Basssa's teeth grit for a moment, at the way Nathan mangled the term, but then he grew surprised, "You know of the K'Sharra Prophecy? How odd! Are you some sort of scholar?"

Nathan nodded genially, "I'm a travelling scholar, of sorts."

"Wonderful!" Ri'Bassa seemed genuinely pleased with this information, "I would be glad to tell you more."

He waved Nathan over to a bench, near their cooking fire and sat him down.

"It has been told from our fathers, and our fathers' fathers, that our time in this place will come to an end." Ri'Bassa began, settling into his story-telling mode. "My great-great-great grandfather, K'Sharra, foretold of a time when we would receive three signs from the gods, signalling the end of the world."

"Really? Three signs? What are they?" Nathan asked with false excitement, Ri'Bassa did not notice.

"These are the signs as they were foretold. First, there is the Plague of Vermin." Ri'Bassa spat the word, "It is said our town will be overrun by disease carrying creatures."

"Rats." Nathan said at the same time as Ri'Bassa.

"Yes, I would imagine. Horrible little things. I always keep a powerful rat poison around in case I see one of the little monsters."

Nathan filed that titbit of information away for later.

"Next is the Plague of Famine. It is foretold that our livestock will fall dead in their fields, with no apparent explanation." Ri'Bassa leaned over to Nathan and said quietly, "We have but six sheep in our pastures and we make sure they are well-tended."

_Well-tended or not, they are going to die, unfortunately._ Nathan thought to himself, though he maintained his look of interest as he asked about the third sign.

"The Plague of Fear." Ri'Bassa replied. "I will not speak of this. Not to an outsider. I'll answer anything else I can. Is there something more?"

Nathan was tempted to push the issue, using his personal affront as leverage, but instead asked about the town. It was unusual, after all, that the community be composed entirely of Khajiit.

"I'm glad you asked. I could go on all day about our little community. We are but a handful of Khajiit, as you can see." Ri'Bassa gestured around at the other cat-people, who all nodded a genial greeting. "Many are the evenings we spend around the cooking fire, sharing stories of Elsweyr. The smell of our food travels for miles!"

"Is that so?" Nathan filed that away for later as well.

"Yes. If you'd like to stay, I'd suggest getting a room at the Border Watch Inn. We don't get many visitors, but S'thasa serves a fine ale. She also has the finest collection of cheeses in the Empire! Her prized cheese has such a powerful aroma, she keeps it sealed in a case!"

"Wow, it must be quite… pungent, then, right?" Nathan said, struggling to hold in his mirth. They had all the ingredients of their doom just waiting around, and then they'd given him the recipe. This was going to be easy.

Thanking the shaman, Nathan headed into the inn, and was warmly greeted by the publican. She, too, was very forthcoming with information to aid his quest. Any other conscientious man would have felt more than just a twinge of guilt at taking advantage of their gullibility. Nathan made the most of the evening, enjoying the fine ale and listening to the various conversations around him.

Before long, the Khajiit were quite inebriated and failed to notice his nefarious activities.

The lock on the cabinet of cheese was easily picked, though the smell that hit him when he opened it almost made him hurl. Breathing carefully through his mouth, and still gagging over the taste, he wrapped the pungent cheese and snuck out of the inn.

Slightly worried that they'd catch the smell of it on him (because the beast folk tended to have more advanced senses, right? They always seemed to know when he cheated at cards!), Nathan kept to the shadows as he approached the cooking fire. He needn't have worried.

It seemed that two of the Khajiit were in the midst of a courting ritual, one that was stalling and had captured the attention of all the denizens of the town. With them distracted, Nathan slipped up to the fire and dumped the cheese in, cloth and all.

It took less than a minute for the cheese to start cooking and the smell was so much worse for that. Nathan had backed away quite quickly to avoid detection, he now reversed further, but as Ri'Bassa had mentioned, the smell pervaded the entire area, not dissipating, indeed overpowering the smell of the river in the distance.

A strangled cry of fear and shock came from the edge of the village as hordes of dog-sized river rats swarmed into the village. The Kahjiit drew their weapons as Ri'Bassa ran for his poison. He dumped it in the centre of town and brandished his sword as the starving rodents attacked.

Nathan, once again utilizing his skulking skills, snuck down and swiped the rat poison, swerving through the battlefield the town had become to approach the sheep pen.

"What is the noise?" the Khajiit guard asked as he ran up.

"Rats! Rats in town! As big as Wolves!" Nathan cried, as he ran up, pretending to be panicked.

"Rats!" the Khajiit snarled, unsheathing his claws and baring his teeth. "Watch the sheep, friend."

"Yes, sir!" Nathan murmured, as the Khajiit raced passed him.

Nathan leapt over the gate, as soon as he was out of sight, and approached the feeding trough.

The sheep, tamed completely by their contact with the beast folk, and being such stupid animals to begin with, wandered sedately over to him.

He emptied the poison into the trough and stirred it a bit with the end of his sword.

"There you go. Tuck in."

The last sounds of battle were dying away from the centre of town, as Nathan left the paddock. He leaned against the gate as the guard returned.

"Any problems?"

"None at all." Nathan replied genially.

"Good. Thanks, friend."

"Not at all."

Nathan was just leaving as the Shaman ran up.

"The sheep? Are the sheep alright?"

The guard nodded, turning to show the shaman that he had not been lax in his duties, just as the sheep began keeling over.

The shaman tore at his hood, as the guard let out a keening wail.

Nathan turned away with a grin, only to dodge away from the feeling of someone whispering in his ear.

**You've done well mortal. I'm amused, I think. Head into the centre of Border watch and make sure to duck!**

Nathan walked through the decimated town, teeth gritted against the yowling cries of the devastated Khajiit as news spread of the sheep demise.

He shook, surprised, as thunder boomed across the sky and roiling red clouds rolled in. the Khajiit went berserk as large, flaming things fell from the sky. He dodged one himself, looking down to find it was an enormous dog, still burning as its entrails splashed across the ground.

He stared at it in horror for all of one second, before racing away, trying desperately to avoid being hit as more carcasses fell from the sky, and the sound of the Mad god laughing was heard above the crackling lightning.

He stumbled through the undergrowth, not really watching and directing his path, simply trying to escape the devastated town. Unknowingly, his steps were being guided back to the grove and the statue that waited therein.

* * *

He tripped over a protruding root and took several deep breaths before standing, only to find himself being carefully observed by the mad masses. One by one, like puppets, they raised an arm, directing him to the statue, which was observing him with unmitigated glee.

**Good times, good times. **The god spoke, as he approached the pedestal. **I hope you had as much fun as I did. Here, take this. It's a fun little toy. **

Nathan barely caught the staff as it was thrown at him. He stared down at it in confusion, lightly fingering the letters engraved along the length.

**Now, go away, before I kill you.**

Nathan turned from the statue, cradling his reward, _the Wabbajack_, in his hands, only to come face to face with the mob of sycophants.

"You've pleased the Mad god! You must be proud of yourself." Ravel said to him, while the other four stared over the dark elf's shoulders, making Nathan distinctly uncomfortable. "I, for one, would still like to eat your eyes."

The way they all stared at him had Nathan stepping back. Their madness was disturbing at the best of times; it was worse now, as he wasn't sure they were joking. Not even after Ravel slapped him on the shoulder and told him, "good for you."

He walked away from the shrine quite quickly, shooting the occasional glance backwards, just to make sure they had returned to the insanity of the grove and were not venturing into the outside world to catch him and eat his organs.

He set off at a run when he saw them all start down the hill after him.


	2. Azura

**Death In The Dark**

* * *

Nathan staggered through the gate of the city. Cheydinhal sat before him, and after his run, it was a welcome sight.

He'd been travelling along the Yellow Road, peacefully, when he'd been set upon by a group of necromancers. He'd taken off to the north, only to run into two goblin war parties fighting over an insignificant patch of dirt. By the time he'd escaped them, he was lost in the wilderness, the sun was setting and he'd not had anything to eat in some time.

He'd cast around looking for something to follow and caught sight of a moving light. Cautiously, he'd approached it, only to find that it was one of those Legion fellows, doing his rounds. The soldier had been extremely helpful in pointing out the road to a town.

So, now he was safe in Cheydinhal, and there was a boisterous looking inn right in front him. Brilliant.

Hours had passed, and he lounged by the fire in the "traditional Dark Elf bar", a mug of one of Vvardenfel's strange beverages, he thought it was called matze, and a pretty little thing in blue cosied up next to him.

It was only the next morning, when he woke, that he found she was actually the Count's Mage, and not a pleasant companion while sober.

_She probably drugged that stuff._ Nathan thought to himself as he held his pounding head, stumbling away from the inn. As soon as she realised he was awake, she'd begun chattering, and it wasn't even sensible chatter. True, Nathan was the last person to be accused of being strait-laced, but really, blasphemy at six o'clock in the morning?

It wasn't like he cared that she had no interest in the Nine Divines. Not many Dark Elves did. Most of the ones he'd run into were fully involved with that Tribunal Temple, though he'd heard they been overthrown or something. But to have her spouting rubbish about her disinterest in the gods, like it was some sort of flirtation; well it turned his stomach.

It had nothing to do with the vast quantities of alcohol he'd imbibed the night before.

What made it worse was that while he was heaving up his guts, she was rubbing his back and whispering in his ear about some shrine up in the mountains. Over and over, about this shrine to someone she called Azura.

The name was echoing through his head, at the same tempo as the pounding. His mouth was dry and felt like it was full of sawdust. He needed some hair of the dog.

He looked around himself, only to find that he'd wandered toward the east gate of the city. There was nothing here but a few houses and a couple of guards who were looking at him curiously. To avoid their scrutiny, he turned to the right and ventured into the Chapel.

It was quiet inside, but the silence did not help his head. Indeed, the pain seemed to increase as he walked forward. He must have bumped into something because he was suddenly being aided by a Redguard woman in red.

"Are you alright, sir?"

He looked up at her blearily. "Hair of the dog?" He mumbled.

She smiled down at him, "I know just the place."

And that was how he found himself seated at a table in the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn, surrounded by upper-class people, like the Castle Steward, who laughed heartily when she found out who he'd been with the night before, and a young imperial called Garellus, who was apparently a guard at the castle and had experienced the same night as him at one time in the past.

Later, as he lay in the large double bed, stomach heavy with food and head swimming with alcohol, he tried to sleep; only to be troubled by dreams of snow and light.

He left the city, heading up into the mountains.

* * *

Nathan cursed.

Sure enough he'd found the shrine up in the mountains, amidst the snow and numerous wolves. But apparently, simply spending days wandering through the countryside to find the shrine was not enough to release him from the never-ending echo in his head.

The Daedra had plans for him, alright, but she required a gift first.

Thus leaving him wandering, yet again, through the wilderness, looking for a will-o-the-wisp. He'd already spent two weeks on this task, and was no closer to finding one then on the first day!

He'd discovered a number of bandit camps, investigated some Ayleid ruins and looted a few old forts, but the creature he sought most eluded him. And all the while, the name of Azura echoed in his head.

He couldn't continue; he was going crazy. He had to do something! Even if it meant travelling to the other end of the province, he had to find some glowdust.

With this renewed determination, Nathan began his walk towards the nearest alchemical shop, in the Imperial city.

* * *

One week later, he left the city, glowdust in hand, headed for that infernal shrine in the mountains.

He stumbled back into the clearing; ignoring the cold, but somewhat amused, looks from the shrine's sycophants, as he approached the statue of Azura, Queen of the Dawn and the Dusk.

He held out the glowdust as an offering but nothing happened. So, he sat down and had his lunch. After his lunch, he had a nap, waking up just as the sun went down. He yawned and stretched, then threw the glowdust at the statue; standing up to receive its displeasure.

**I have seen your name, traveller, and heard it whispered in twilight. **

"And I've heard your name also." He muttered darkly, "Only for the last several weeks, between my ears."

**I ask a service, which holds promise of fame and reward.**

"Reward, huh? Now we're talking." Nathan focused his attention on the Lady, not noticing as the Dark Elf, Mels, sidled up behind him.

**Many years ago, five followers slew the vampire Dratik and its kin, but all were infected by the foul creature.**

**Knowing their fate, they sealed themselves up in the vampire's lair. Their suffering weighs heavily on me.**

"Then maybe you shouldn't have sent…oof." His breath was knocked out of him and his words cut off, as Mels Maryon elbowed him in the gut.

"Show some respect for the Lady." Mels whispered, holding Nathan upright. The Lady smiled down upon them.

**Travel to the Gutted Mine. The door will open for you. Bring the peace of death to my followers, and you shall earn my gratitude.**

Mels turned Nathan and marched him across the clearing, directing him, wordlessly, to the path he needed to take.

"You do realise that it's night time, right?"

Mels simply raised his arm, pointing along the path. Nathan set off still grumbling.

* * *

Since he'd found the Gutted Mine during his quest for glowdust, Nathan knew the way already, so it didn't take him too long to arrive. Now that the door opened, he ventured inside.

The first thing he found was a mace to the face. As he stumbled back, holding his nose, which had blood streaming out of it, he alerted the first vampire to his presence.

She came storming towards him, red eyes glinting in the dim light, a ravenous hunger evident on her face at the smell of his blood. He barely had time to draw his sword and fend her off, but after exchanging a few blows, she lay dead on the floor.

He checked her over; she was sickly thin, yet bloated at the same time. Vampirism had not been kind to her, and who knew how long she'd been stuck here.

He moved forward into the mine, coming across a barrel in the tunnel. It held a few torches, which he threw down in disgust. The blood from his nose had already alerted them to his presence. Holding a torch would simply aid them in finding him. Even if they were unlikely to want to fight, their vampiric natures would compel them to a token effort at the least, and he had no wish to enable that. As dishonourable as it was to stab someone while their back was turned, if he could, he would.

Unfortunately, the scent of his blood and his poor sneaking skills, alerted the next vampire before he reached her. Though she could not pinpoint his location, she was suspicious and his first strike did not take her down. She was quickly joined by another of her afflicted brethren, and Nathan was hard pressed holding them off.

As he stood over their still bodies, he could feel a weakness flowing through his own. He cursed angrily, knowing that he must have contracted the disease.

The smell of his own blood was strong in his nose, almost overpowering him even though the flow had stopped. Now that he knew how it affected them, he cast a spell of detect life to give himself more warning.

He came to a dead end, though his spell indicated where the last two were. It didn't take him long to locate the pull rope and open the wall. Down the hill, the two vampires paced, already antsy from the noise above them and the smell of blood which was spreading through the air. These two, however, seemed to be fighting off their urges; they were tense as if they knew their release would arrive shortly.

Nathan tread cautiously towards them, praying there were no more traps ahead. His sword was drawn, in readiness for battle, but he hoped it would not be a difficult one.

At the sight of him, the High Elf drew her bow, aiming towards him, but the arrow flew passed. The Orc came barrelling toward him, mace drawn and swinging, though his movements were laboured. Moving swiftly, Nathan parried the mace, striking a glancing blow across the Orc's shoulder. The blade caught on the edge of the vampire's cuirass, flipping over the lip and cutting into his neck. Nathan tugged on it and it slid free, leaving a great gash through the Orc's throat. As he fell, the High Elf gave a cry and drew her dagger, rushing forward in a hurried attack.

Nathan stepped out of reach of the small blade, before stepping forward and thrusting his blade through her chest. As she died, she whispered her thanks.

Nathan looked around the dimly lit chamber, his eyes not resting on the bodies at his feet. Then his gaze caught on a scrap of parchment attached to a cord. It lay on the floor, not far from the body of the Orc.

He picked it up, unfurling it to read a note, obviously written by the Brethren.

_My name is Ghola gro-Muzgol. My companions' names are Aranalda, Nille Elf-daughter, Avita Cassiana and Umar gra-Khar._

_The vampire Dratik died by our hands, but the price was dear. Those into whose hands we have fallen, we thank you, and pray your favour._

_We served Lady Azura. Bring these, our last words, to her shrine. We praise Her with the full fountain of our devotion._

_Our destinies were written in the stars, that our souls and reason be slain, and our world lost forever._

_None can escape Her fate. But let us be remembered at Her shrine, and in the hearts of Her servants._

"_It is only by fate_

_That any life ends,_

_And only by chance_

_That it is mine…_

_Not yours."_

As he stood there staring at it in dismay, Nathan's ears picked up the sound of creaking. He drew his sword and spun, ready to attack this new adversary, though the Lady had only mentioned five.

What he found, instead, was a walled up alcove. Pushing at the rickety boards caused them to fall from their fixings. He ventured inside to discover a coffin, most probably that of the vampire, Dratik. It was ornate and dusty, suggesting a distinguished owner who had not used it for a long time.

The sight of its empty bed was tempting to him, which worried Nathan no small amount. He quickly turned away and headed back out of the mine.

Outside, he breathed a sigh of relief in the cold, mountain air. Then he winced as the sun came out from behind a cloud and the realities of his condition struck him like a hammer. Searching through his pack, he unearthed a potion, chugging it down quickly to alleviate the effects of the disease. The sunlight-induced headache faded away as his porphyric hemophilia was cured.

He headed back along the path, towards the shrine and his reward. The three worshippers looked up at him as he entered. He stopped stunned.

_Are those tears?_ He wondered to himself, nervously stepping between the benches. _I hope they aren't going to mob me now._

Thankfully, they didn't, for which Nathan was eternally grateful.

He had to wait until sundown for Azura to appear once more, and Mels had made him kneel in front of the statue as some sort of penance. The fact that he'd been sent to kill the unfortunate brethren did not dissuade the Dark Elf in the slightest.

Finally, the sun dipped below the mountains and the statue sprang to life.

**Thank you mortal. Their spirits are free, and henceforth, above my shrine, five bright candles shall burn forever in memory of their sacrifice.**

"Seems like a small reward for their suffering." Nathan mumbled, tipping forward when Mels kicked him. Azura smiled down at him.

**For your service, take this token that your deeds might be entered in the Book of Fate.**

Nathan looked at the Star in his hands.

"This is it?"

He looked up at the Lady, only to find she'd reverted back to a statue.

"That's it? That's all my reward is? What am I supposed to do with it?"

He spun round, and stormed up to Mels.

"What is your will, you who have been blessed by our Lady's voice?" The Dark Elf said calmly.

"Not to seem impolite or ungrateful, I mean it's really pretty and all," Nathan paused, sensing the Mels was trying to communicate something to him, "and probably very useful…"

Mels nodded with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

"… but I just killed five innocent people. I think I deserve a little extra, if you know what I mean." Nathan finished.

"The Great Lady has spoken…" Mels replied, "To you alone."

Nathan opened his mouth to state that that wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but Mels continued, joined by the other two worshippers.

"The moon and star shall be your guide." As one, they pointed to the path out of the clearing, "Farewell Star-bearer."

Nathan stalked out of the clearing, scowling and grumbling, "Next they'll be saying I'm the Nerevarine."


	3. Nocturnal

**Watching from the Shadows**

* * *

Nathan quietly closed the door and tip-toed down the grimy steps.

"Hello there!" A friendly voice called out. He stopped, thinking he'd been caught exiting the rooms of the inn (where he had no legitimate business) only to hear another voice answer with an account of mudcrabs on the nearby beaches.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he ventured into the tap-room of the Silverhome on the Water, the only decent place in Bravil to have a drink.

While the barman was busy, involved in a thrilling conversation about goblins, Nathan snooped around, looking for anything valuable and easily taken. What he found was a large sheet of paper with a very interesting story printed on it.

_The Black Horse Courier_

_Rain of the Burning Dogs!_

_Experts Bewildered!_

_The quiet life of the idyllic Border Watch community was shattered recently by a meteorological phenomenon local experts are unable to explain. On an otherwise normal day, the skies above the small village suddenly darkened and burning dogs rained down from the heavens._

_The carnage was terrible, according to witnesses. Charred dog carcasses littered the village, and the smell alone was enough to drive many residents into their homes. When asked about the event, the local mage and weather expert Castus Philidus had this to say:_

_ "There seems to be no precedent for this in all of Tamrielic history. While there have been stories of insects, frogs and the occasional wayward mage crashing to the earth, I've never encountered tales of burning dogs raining from the skies. It is possible that the dogs were part of some mage's experiments with summoning gone bad, or perhaps the dogs were swept up in a great wind and hurled into the sky. This might explain the dogs falling onto the unfortunate Border Watch community. Of course it still doesn't explain why they were on fire."_

_While the experts seem puzzled, the residents of Border Watch see only one explanation._

_ "It is the end of the world!" said one resident, who asked not to be named in this article. "The K'Sharra Prophecy tells us this will happen! The rats! The sheep! We are all doomed! Doomed!"_

_Prophecy? Mages? Freak weather occurrence? We may never know. And the small village of Border Watch will definitely never be the same._

"Can you believe those bumpkins?"

Nathan looked up from the broadsheet he'd been reading.

"What was that?" He asked the high elf proprietor, Gilgondorin. The Altmer nodded towards the story as he continued to wipe clean a glass.

"Khajiit!" He snorted disparagingly, "As if the world is going to end."

Nathan smiled wryly, before making a quiet departure. The drink wasn't that good anyway. And if the _Courier_ was to be believed, the Khajiit village was still suffering under the delusion that "the end is nigh!".

Breathing in the still night air (and instantly regretting it as the over-powering stench of the canals suffocated him) Nathan stumbled away from the inn towards the gate. There was only so much to do in Bravil as it was, and the news from Border Watch was intriguing.

Imagine, an entire community living under impression that their prophecy of doom had come true! At the very least, watching them running around in a panic would be amusing. After all, he hadn't had a proper opportunity to laugh at their predicament, since he'd left in such a hurry.

If they were still pathetically despondent over the "end of the world", perhaps he'd take pity on them and re-educate them.

* * *

To say he was unsuccessful was an understatement.

The Khajiit of Border Watch would not even talk to him. He was shocked to find that they'd reverted to a level of bestiality unseen in the Imperial Province for a great many years. Ri'Bassa was refusing to leave his house, appalled that he'd been unable to recognize the coming of the K'Sharra Prophecy and terrified to be living through those darkly foretold times.

The rest of the villagers had thrown off their civilised trappings in favour of fur and pelts and were no longer holding to the norms of Imperial society.

In fact, they tried to kill him when he approached.

And that was how Nathan found himself taking a dip, once more, in the chilly waters of Niben Bay, fleeing angry cat people bent on revenge.

Of course he took refuge in the water, as everyone knows that the Khajiit are not good swimmers and hate to be wet. He had swum two thirds of the distance across the strait when he remembered he held those same characteristics.

Thankfully, the water was not terribly deep nor the current strong and he made landfall across the strait without incident. But the other side of the river was imminently more frustrating.

The first person he met was an Imperial Legion Forester. Thinking he'd be of a similar temperament to his contemporaries around the Ring Road, Nathan approached the man intending to seek his aid in either destroying the Khajiit or finding his way back to civilisation, only to receive an extremely hostile response.

"You. I've seen your kind before. You've got blood on your hands." The legionnaire growled.

"What? I've never struck down a man or mer in my life!" Nathan protested.

"Keep your blade sheathed, you murdering bastard, or I'll put you down myself." The guard continued, ignoring Nathan's protestations of innocence.

Nathan stalked away from him in disgust, only then remembering that he had just recently returned from the Jeralls and that little run in with Azura. He glanced over his shoulder to see the guard pacing along the water's edge. _Maybe he's part Khajiit?_

Shaking his head, Nathan continued through the trees, heading up the hill in search of a road. He was sure there was one along the ridge. Off to his left, the sight of the dancing flames of a large fire caught his attention, but the shadows indicated the presence of other sentient beings and he had no wish to encounter further hostiles, especially while he was still wet. However the thought of a warm fire called to him and he approached the camp.

Sure enough, the camp's inhabitants were less than friendly. He was soon run off into the woods as the sun set.

Cold and wet, he stumbled through the damp forest before falling onto the hard, stony surface of the road. Having banged his head on the rocks, his vision was a little blurry as he stood up. He wasn't sure if he was hearing or seeing things, but it appeared that there were people up ahead. Hoping for a warmer welcome than he'd had so far, Nathan wandered through the shadows toward the sounds.

"We are not afraid of the dark." Female voices carried through the cool night air.

"I'm not afraid of the dark either." Nathan muttered, walking forward to the edge of the small glow.

He could just make out three figures in the dim light, eyes glittering disturbingly.

"We seek what the darkness hides and the Night Mistress is our guide."

Having this whispered at him stunned him and Nathan stopped, unsure of his welcome. Suddenly, one of the figures turned and rapidly approached him, he stumbled back from her, only to hit an embankment.

"What is your business in this place?"

"Uh…"

"Stop talking!"

Nathan's mouth shut with a snap, feeling the assessing gaze of this person sweep over him. From the mangled way of speaking and the guttural tones of her voice, he guessed she was an orc. Her words suggested that he'd stumbled upon yet another Daedric shrine.

"You should not be in this place." The Orc snapped, "What is your business here? Do you believe yourself worthy to speak to Nocturnal?"

"Actually, I'm looking for…"

"Hmm, perhaps you have been summoned." The Orc cut him off rudely. He stared at her, through the shadows, as she continued, "Perhaps Nocturnal desires your service and has guided you here."

He began protesting his usefulness, when she grabbed him roughly by the arm and dragged him forward.

"Approach."

"Like you've given me any choice." Nathan muttered darkly, before stepping up to the pedestal. He was just about to ask what was needed as an offering when the statue before him turned its head.

**Night among strangers. Secrets in the dark. Nocturnal is here. But my eye is blind and drowned, stolen from its shrine, and hid in dark waters.**

Nathan peered up at her face, but couldn't be sure that she didn't have both eyes.

**To steal from a god is most unwise. In Leyawiin, two Argonians think themselves secret, but the Eye has seen them. **

"Probably because they touched it." He snickered, "But hey, how do you know? Can you see what it sees even if it isn't in your head?"

The statue glared down at him, and he cringed back to see the empty socket. The other eye glittered malevolently and he chose, wisely, to shut up.

**Find these thieves in the city that spans the waters. Learn where they hide my Eye. Retrieve the Eye of Nocturnal, mortal and return it to me, and I shall look favourably upon you.**

"Yeah, because you'll have both eyes!" Nathan chortled.

* * *

Having been all but thrown out of the grove by the annoyed sycophants, and directed towards Leyawiin, Nathan trudged down the road to the south. If he were completely honest, this end of the Imperial province sucked.

It was wet, perpetually so, whether from the mist, the rain or simply because of the river. And Nathan hated the wet.

Also, it was too close to the Black Marsh and Elsweyr, meaning the beastfolk were more than abundant, and they were, in Nathan's opinion, sneaky and untrustworthy.

Surprise, surprise; they had the audacity to steal from the Daedric Prince!

Soaking wet, tired and miserable, Nathan pushed on, entering the gates of the city just as the sun rose. He wandered around in the weak morning sunlight, fighting off chills from the looming shadows that seemed to hang from the buildings. There didn't seem to be anyone about, except for a handful of guards and Nathan doubted they had any information about the crime. The guards were always the last to know anything.

Slowly, the streets began to fill up with people. The first person he came across was a poorly dressed Khajiit woman who smelt awful. She was scared off by the appearance of an Argonian with bright green stripes across his face, who began telling Nathan the most atrocious jokes.

He seemed to be attracting the horrible folk, as it wasn't long after he'd managed to extricate himself from the joking jester that he'd had another Khajiit woman land on him. She said she was practicing her skills.

Nathan was sorely tempted to "practice" his axe skills on her but a guard approached before he could unsheathe his weapon.

"Greetings, Breton." The guard called, shooing the Khajiit woman away, "What brings you to our town?"

Relieved to be conversing with someone not related to possible pets, Nathan replied that he was just looking around, and inquired after any recent gossip.

"Have you heard about Bejeen and Weebam-Na's big haul? They say they've found a jewel of great value."

"Bejeen and Weebam-Na? Those sound like Argonian names."

"That they are."

"What can you tell me about them?"

"Well, Bejeen, she wasn't a bad sort, until she hooked up with that rascal. Weebam-Na, he's always got some scam going on. You'll most likely find them at Weebam-Na's house." The guard eyed him suspiciously, "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, I'm investigating a report for the Imperial Legion. We've heard about the theft of a priceless artefact and I was sent to check all leads.

"Well, they have been boasting recently, about the precious nature of their loot." The Guard scoffed, "Coming from them though, it's more likely in their minds."

"Why would you say that?"

"Those two are crazy about rats!"

Nathan looked thoughtful, "Well, thank you for your time. I'll let you return to your duties."

The guard offered a salute, "Always ready to help the Legion." He smiled as he turned and marched away.

_Kiss-arse!_ Nathan thought, before walking in the opposite direction.

* * *

It didn't take long to discover which of the run down, little shacks belonged to the two Argonian thieves. Nor was it difficult breaking into the joint. This whole situation seemed to be unfolding with only minimal annoyance to himself, for which Nathan was most grateful. Now, all he had to do was snoop around and uncover the prize.

He crept quietly into the building, staying close to the wall of the entryway where the shadows were heaviest. He could hear movements ahead, suggesting that the occupants were present, and he halted at the corner before peering round to check out the situation.

"…a fisherman uses the cave?" A worried voice asked, as Nathan ducked back, closing his eyes so he could concentrate on their words.

There was a hiss, before a deeper voice spoke, frustration colouring the sibilant tone, "No fisherman is going into the cave. It's full of trolls. We have to sneak past them, remember?"

"What if the trolls eat it?" The first voice asked, plaintively.

"Trolls don't like water." The deeper voice rasped, "Trolls don't swim. The eye is perfectly safe in Tidewater Cave. So relax."

Nathan snorted, amused at how easy it was to garner the information he needed, then mentally kicked himself as one of the Argonians shushed the other.

"There's someone here!"

Cautious steps were headed in his direction, so Nathan made good his escape.

He was outside, down the street and around the corner before you could say "Blackwood".

* * *

It took a little digging around, and quite a lot of wet wading, but Nathan finally found the blasted cave. It was dark, dank and disturbingly full of antagonistic animals. The trolls were the worst, coming at him with those callipers, like they were mad alchemists with a necromancy twist.

So he slashed his way through them, occasionally throwing a ball of fire just to be on the safe side. So what if the flames went out on contact with the water, he made sure the blasted creatures were dead, without electrocuting himself.

So, the animals were dead, the cave had been completely plundered, except for the small matter of the eye which had, so far, resisted being found.

"Alright, Nathan," He said to himself, "Start at the beginning. It has to be here. You've just missed a turn somewhere."

He splashed his way back through the cave towards the entrance to do just that, when he once again overhead an Argonian conversation.

"You see, it was perfectly fine. No one knows it's even here."

He ducked back behind the corner, peaking around the rocks to see the two Argonians sneaking back out of a tunnel he'd missed when he'd first entered the damn cave.

"You're right. I know. I'm just worried." Bejeen replied, "I'll try to calm down."

Nathan had to stop himself from laughing out loud as the two thieves left the cave, none the wiser that their very presence had caused their precious treasure to be taken.

He waded through the knee deep water, down the tunnel and found what he sought. It wasn't very big, but it was pulsing and glowing, which was slightly off-putting. He picked it up and had the distinct impression that someone (Nocturnal) was looking at him and blinking.

With a shudder he couldn't suppress, he tucked it into his pack and stealthily left the cave.

* * *

It was passed nightfall by the time he made it back to the clearing and the shrine, and Nathan was quite ready to relieve himself of his burden. He could feel the warmth of the orb through his pack and the pulsing was disturbing him. He couldn't help but think that he'd committed some sort of sacrilege just by carrying the thing.

With little ceremony, he presented the Eye to the statue, watching as it disappeared from his hand and was absorbed into the Daedra's face.

**My eye is returned and I once again see into the darkness that is your world. We mock the thieves, for bitter is their loss. **

"You're telling me." Nathan muttered, "Though it's pretty sweet where I'm standing."

Nocturnal eyed him irritably, until he stopped sniggering and muttered an apology.

**You, mortal, may take this. **

Nathan quickly held his hands out as a ball of greater darkness split and an item fell. It looked somewhat like a half dozen wires had been attached to the hilt of a dagger. He looked up at the Daedric Prince in question.

The frustration on her face was evident as she stated, **It shall open the secrets of the dark places for you.**

He examined it for a second; turning it over a few times before its use became apparent.

"Oh, it's for picking locks!" He exclaimed, feeling pretty smart until he noticed the sycophants were rolling their eyes at him. With a sheepish grin, he took his leave, hurrying down the road in the hopes that he could leave his embarrassment behind. He could hear their calls following him through the trees.

"Keep the Key safe."


	4. Namira

**Under The Influence**

* * *

There was a horse blocking his way.

Nathan stopped and surveyed the animal. It was an ordinary horse, of the paint variety.

And it was standing in his way.

Just standing there, as if minding its own business, in front of the main gate to Bruma.

Nathan shivered. _That's great. Now, it's snowing!_

Just then the gate opened and a tall, black-haired Nord man walked out. He nodded to the guards; they nodded back, and he continued on towards Nathan.

And the horse.

Then he mounted the horse and began idling away down the path.

"Oi, you! What's the meaning of leaving your horse in the walkway?" Nathan shouted after him.

The horse stopped and the Nord looked back at him. Nathan gulped, hoping it wasn't too obvious, and stepped back.

"I am Honmund, I fossick."

Nathan blinked, "You what?"

But the Nord had turned in his saddle and set the horse to walking once more.

Mildly intrigued, Nathan followed him, though it was very slow going. They journeyed along the path, then diverted to the left, onto a small trail that led up into the Jerall Mountains. Honmund dismounted and tied his horse to a tree and left the trail, gathering mushrooms as he went. The whole time he was chortling to himself about mushroom stew, mushroom soup, fried mushrooms, boiled mushrooms and any other way of cooking and preparing mushrooms. The man even tossed one into his gaping maw raw!

Quite disgusted with the sight, Nathan turned away; ready to return to the security of Bruma and the warmth of Olav's Tack and Tap. It was then that he caught sight of a few goblins mingling about outside a cave.

"I haven't had a good goblin bashing in quite sometime." Nathan said quietly to himself, as he pulled out his money pouch. "And the bag's a little empty at the moment."

He glanced over his shoulder. Honmund was still "fossicking" and humming to himself. Nathan shrugged, and headed off for the cave.

Three hours, and several dead goblins, later, Nathan stepped out into the crisp afternoon air, to find that the snow had stopped and Honmund had continued up into the mountains. Casting a calculating eye around his surroundings, he caught sight of a statue to the south and headed off for a better look.

What he found was not a nice surprise. It was a Daedric shrine. Namira's shrine as it turned out, home to Her Wretchedness and her revolting worshippers; three of the ugliest women Nathan had ever had the misfortune to encounter.

He was standing on the path, staring, when the foulest of the three approached him.

"Who are you? Why do you invade our place of worship? Surely you don't think yourself worthy to visit Namira's Shrine."

Nathan went to say, 'I was curious', but the jab about being worthy struck him cold. He glared at the woman, about to tell her off, when she blasted him again.

"This place of blessed darkness, a holy place where we may worship in our wretchedness. Why are you here?"

"I _am_ worthy to visit the Shrine, you old bag."

"You?" She cackled, "You are too pretty to worship in this place. People like you, like to hear you talk. When you are more loathsome, you may return."

She strode away from him, still cackling, as the other two grinned their awful grins.

There seemed nothing else for him to do but to leave and as he went he thought, _I think I was just insulted._

* * *

Nightfall found him within Olav's bar, disgruntled, drunk and still thinking about the damn ugly woman up on the mountain.

"I'm too pretty?" He grumbled.

"That's not a bad thing, sweetie." Arnora simpered as she refilled his glass.

"Who are they to tell me, I'm too pretty!" He growled.

"They're unimportant. I've a more interesting proposition for you." Arnora said winningly as he threw back his wine.

"No! They have no right! Get off me, you two-bit slag!" Nathan shouted, throwing the Nord woman back as he stood. He grabbed the bottle of wine he'd been drinking and stormed from the building, leaving a very insulted woman behind.

"Good evening sir." The guard at the gate called as Nathan approached.

"Get out wit' yer!" He slurred back and the guard glared.

"You've had too much to drink, sir. You'd best be going home."

"Leave off, you nosy li'l' man!" Nathan growled, shoving the guard backwards and storming through the gates.

Surprisingly, Nathan made it back to the shrine, in the dark and snow, while inebriated, in one piece. He stumbled into the clearing, tripping on one of the benches and fell into something soft.

Hard hands stood him up and through his blurred vision; he came face to face with Hjolfrodi the Harrier, in all her hooked nosed glory.

He promptly fell back on to his backside.

"Ahh… much better. You repulse me now, at least to a degree. Others should find you foul, disgusting. Namira may be pleased. Approach the shrine."

She stepped aside, gesturing him forward. He looked up at her blankly, then over at the shrine.

"What?"

Blanche and Degil, the two other unfortunate looking womenfolk, then raised him to his feet and assisted him towards the shrine.

_**You dare approach my shrine, Child of the Light? You, who walks this plane, basking in the light of the warm cruel sun?**_

"Uh, yes." Nathan answered uncertainly, while the women nodded encouragingly.

_**Prove to me that you deserve my favour.**_

"Okay."

_**In Anga, my Forgotten have lived in peace for many years. They worship me in the dark, basking in their misery and filth. Now, though, some would seek to bring light to their darkness.**_

"How terrible." Nathan murmured, as the women behind him began rambling nonsense about a deep hole of wondrous shadow and hallowed despair. His head was beginning to hurt.

_**Priests of Arkay have intruded upon their squalor. I want you to help my Forgotten to kill these priests of the Light.**_

"What?" Nathan shot up from the ground. His head spun and he fell over, only to be propped up by the women once again. "I can't kill priests! There are laws against that sort of thing."

He glanced around at the women, but they were all grinning down at him maliciously, as if revelling in the prospect. He turned back to the Daedra, chilled to the bone, despite the copious amounts of alcohol in his system.

_**Cast this spell upon the priests. Allow my beloved Forgotten to kill these interlopers. When this is done, I shall reward you for your efforts.**_

A rush of power went through him, but before he could process the feeling, it was gone and Hjolfrodi stood before him.

"You have been given a task by Namira? Truly, you are terrible in my eyes. Disgusting and foul. Blessed are you."

"The feeling is mutual." Nathan mumbled as he was helped to his feet. "Except for the "blessed" part. Unless ugliness is a blessing..."

He stumbled down the road and into the forest.

"And I suspect it's not."

Those were his last words before he stepped off the edge of a hill and tumbled down the slope.

When he'd finally come to a stop, he was lying on the white stone road that denotes an Ayleid ruin, still drunk, slightly hung-over and in a lot of pain.

"Urghnn." He groaned, rolling onto his back and looking around. Then he sat up, reaching a shaking hand into his pack for one of the healing potions he usually carried. There was only one.

It managed to heal his injuries but the pain of his head was lingering.

And then the sun came up.

"Argh! My head! The Light!" Nathan rasped, as he scurried into some shade. The sun continued to burn down on him, its rays piercing straight into his brain; so he made a break for it, darting into the nearby door.

"Blessed darkness!" He murmured, resting his head against the cold stone wall. A few minutes passed and his sodden brain seemed to begin processing the sounds around him.

There were voices within the ruins, speaking over dark whispers; the crackle of flaming brands and the patter of footsteps echoed throughout.

He opened his eyes and dragged himself to the edge of the stairs, leading down. Shadows flickered as small gasps of air flowed around moving bodies and the whispers were occasionally punctuated by pained cries.

He couldn't see much from where he was, so he eased his way down the staircase, venturing into the dark ruins.

There was a light at the end of the passage; it hurt his eyes as it approached. Over the whispers, he could hear the carrier's intoned chants.

"_Light from Darkness, hope from hopelessness. In Arkay's name, I pray_."

There was a hiss from his left, but Nathan's eyes were watering and his head was pounding. Without thinking, he raised his hand and a spell was cast, dousing the torch and plunging the room into darkness.

"_Arkay, save me!"_ A panicked voice yelled, as the sound of bare feet on stone was drowned out by the sound of metal clubs striking unprotected flesh.

Nathan looked down in horror as a blackened torch rolled into his foot. He groped forward, pressing passed bodies that were already returning to the hidden recesses of the ruins. He stumbled over something soft on the floor and realized; a priest of Arkay was dead.

One of the Forgotten stood over him. He looked up, the dim light allowing him to see her dirty, solemn face. She stared back blankly.

"Namira, save us." She said quietly, raising a hand to point along the passage, where the dancing shadows announced the presence of another torch-wielding priest. Then she turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Nathan rose, unsteadily. Using the wall as support, he moved toward the priest. He could hear the hiss of the Forgotten in the side chambers, as this second priest attempted to lead them to salvation.

"_In the darkness, we see your Light. Arkay, guide me through these times, so that I may once again see your Light._"

His vision was clearing, but the pain in his head intensified as the torch approached. A Forgotten one tried to cross the hall to deeper, darker shadows but was caught in the light.

"It burns!" He cried weakly.

"_Bringer of Light, bless these wretches so that they may see the path to your glory._" The priest chanted above the cowering body.

A piercing pain shot straight through his head, and Nathan's hand cast the spell again. Again, the torch was snuffed out and the priest called on his god for protection as the Forgotten fell upon him with clubs.

Within seconds, his body lay beaten and broken on the unforgiving stone floor and the chants of yet another torch-wielding fanatic called Nathan along the hall.

This one walked along a narrow corridor, the stone biers of past elvish dead in small rooms on either side, the only protection for the Forgotten who cowered there.

"_Arkay, Light of Lights, cleanse this place of darkness._"

"I think they like it dark." Nathan muttered, still holding his head, as the priest turned to him in surprise.

"_Arkay, protect and keep these wayward souls_." The Priest said, no hint of doubt or uncertainty in his voice. "_Bring Light to these damned souls._"

"Namira, bring the Dark." A voice said at his shoulder, as Nathan raised his hand once more.

"I'm sorry."

The priest was dead before his torch hit the floor.

The word seemed to have spread, for now Nathan was being pushed forward by a number of the Forgotten. The room where they found the last priest had all of the exits blocked. The priest was sweating slightly, the sheen on his forehead visible in the wavering light of his torch, as he waved it around, trying to ward off the Forgotten.

Nathan was ushered into the room and the sight of him seemed to bolster the courage of the young man.

"_Watch over these souls, who have strayed from the light of your love._" The Priest chanted in a loud clear voice, his eyes begging Nathan to reciprocate with a similar message of hope. His announcement was met with a wave of hisses and whispers of praise for Namira.

"I am sorry." Nathan said quietly, as one of the Forgotten grabbed his wrist and raised his arm for him.

"In these dark times, I will feel no fear." The Priest stated, a look of resignation replacing the quick flash of panic. "In your glory, you bring us to the Light."

The spell was cast and the flame sputtered out. The Forgotten swarmed over the unresisting man.

"I hope you find the Light, my friend." Nathan murmured as he left the room.

The Forgotten rejoiced briefly, before skulking back into their shadowy nooks and darkened caverns. It was a bittersweet victory for Nathan, and he left the ruin with a heavy heart.

It was past sunset when he'd made it back to the shrine. Feeling discontented, not even the countenance of the three women could break through to disgust him.

He walked up to the shrine and summoned the Daedra Prince.

_**You have cleansed my followers' perfect darkness. The Forgotten are free to wallow in their misery.**_

"Do they feel as bad as I do?" Nathan muttered. The Daedra seemed to understand his pain and anguish.

_**Take my ring. Let it bring pain to others who wish it upon you.**_

Nathan looked down at the ring, his vision clear now and the pain in his head passing. He looked up at the Daedra. She smiled back at him.

_**Namira blesses you.**_

The Daedra was gone, only a cold stone statue remained on the dais.

_Fitting._ Nathan thought, _It is a cold comfort you have given me._

"Namira is pleased." Said a voice behind him and Nathan turned to find Hjolfrodi standing quite close to him. She was smiling at him, and her words from the night before stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding memory. This woman was attracted to him!

"Um, excuse me. I'd better be going! I think I left something somewhere!"

He backed away from her, skirting around the dais and darted off into the trees as she yelled abuse after him.

"Foul one! May your days be filled with the hurtful stares of others!"

"Thank you!" He called back, still running away.

"Dwell joyously in filth and squalor!" She screamed.

He stopped and caught his breath, and he could just make out the low chant of the other women.

"The ring guides us all."

He looked down at the ring then behind him. There was a crashing noise coming from the direction of the shrine and growing louder.

"Damn, tricky bastards! It's a bloody homing beacon!" He shouted, racing off towards Bruma, in the hopes that the guards would protect him from the three ugly women.

The sound of their cackles echoed in the cold night air.


	5. Vaermina

**Lost in a Dream of a Nightmare**

* * *

Nathan crouched behind a rock, his head down as he prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't be found, or that he could escape this hell hole. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

There he'd been, enjoying a stroll on a nice sunny day, just a quick walk through the forest south of Harlun's Watch, when he noticed it.

Well, of course he noticed it. It was twenty feet tall and wreathed in flames.

A gate to Oblivion.

Oh, he'd heard the rumours: that Kvatch had been over-run by Daedra that had come through a gateway outside the city. And anyone who'd ever met a Dunmer knew about the different realms of Oblivion; each lord and prince had their own.

But to actually find an open gate, it was too much temptation. Especially since there didn't seem to be anyone around it.

So, he'd walked up and touched it.

And found himself sucked into a horrible plane, full of heat, smoke and black rocks. And the servants of the Daedra! He'd only just escaped from a crowd of them to hide behind this rock.

"What are you doing here?"

Nathan screamed in shock, only to have a hand clapped over his mouth as he was pushed back against the rock. A Dunmer woman, with shocking white hair, knelt in front of him, an angry scowl on her face.

"Do you have a death wish? Do you want them to kill us both?" She snarled. He shook his head emphatically and her expression softened to a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"Exploring?" He said, once she'd released his face.

"Are you insane?"

He shook his head again, still a bit overwhelmed by his current circumstances. She glanced around to make sure there was nothing coming toward them before turning back to him.

"Do you know how to get out?"

"Through the gate?"

"No, I mean to close it?"

"You can close these gates?"

She shot him an annoyed look, "Of course you can. How do you think Kvatch survived?"

Nathan stared at her, "You're the hero of Kvatch? You?"

"Don't sound so surprised." She bit out sarcastically, as she scanned their surroundings again. "Now, if you want to live, follow me. And for Azura's sake, make yourself useful."

"Yes Ma'am."

* * *

Three hours later, after crawling through tunnels, fighting off atronachs and scamps, creeping through a Daedra infested tower and snatching an odd glowing stone, Nathan found himself back in the Nibenay Basin. He'd never been so happy to see a mud crab.

The elf watched him rolling around in the mud in bemusement. "I don't know how you've survived this long."

He sat up and stared at her, standing above him, hands on her hips.

"I'll be going now. Stay out of my way."

She turned and stalked off into the hills, leaving him behind. He was a bit shocked that she'd just leave like that. So he scrambled out of the mud and tried to follow her.

It was too late, she'd vanished completely.

He searched all over those hills, but the only thing he found was a Daedric shrine. Tucked in beside a wall of rock, overlooking a small lake, the shrine to Vaermina couldn't have looked more idyllic.

He approached the sycophants, partly due to curiosity and partly to ask if they'd seen his rescuer, and was surprised by their statements.

"I have mastered my fears." The Redguard woman said, and by the look of her she'd been in the legion at some point so those fears were probably justifiable. "There is no terror to compare with what Vaermina has shown me in my dreams."

"Oh, right. That's great then." Nathan replied, ducking away from her as she spun in a circle, her arms spread wide as if to embrace the sky.

"I have seen everything." The Imperial woman told him, her face marked by a lack of sleep, "After you have seen through Vaermina's eyes, nothing can frighten you."

"Is that so?" Nathan asked, as he stepped around her and approached the Dark Elf in the odd robe. "And what's your story?"

The Dunmer ignored his question to snap out waspishly, "Who are you, who dares to walk in the House of Shadow?"

Nathan stepped back, "Have a look around, buddy! It's a perfectly beautiful, sunny day."

The Dunmer grunted in disapproval, "What business do you have with the Lord Vaermina?"

"Well, I found the shrine." Nathan stated, scratching the side of his face, "I figure the only reason why I'm finding you loonies is because I'm meant to. So what do I need to gain Her Lordship's favour?"

His face twisted in distaste, knowing that his Daedric Prince was being mocked, the Dunmer stiffly told Nathan, "To speak with Vaermina, you must offer a black soul gem to the Daedra Lord."

"Of course. Of course." Nathan nodded, "And what might that be?"

The three followers smiled grimly and refused to say anything more.

* * *

"Must they always be unhelpful?" Nathan muttered to himself, as he sat at the bar in his favourite Cheydinhal watering hole, The Bridge Inn. "I mean, would it kill them to be a little less vague?"

"Talking to yourself now?"

He looked up to see his Dunmer saviour taking the stool next to him. She grinned at him and sipped her drink.

"That's the first sign of madness, you know?"

"There's a bar across the street for the likes of you." He bit back.

"Nathan, now is not the time to be hateful." She continued, unfazed by his racial slur. When he'd turned back to grump into his drink, she whacked him over the head, and laughed as he coughed and spluttered.

"Are you following me?" He rasped, having finally cleared his airways of liquor.

She shot him an incredulous look, and shook her head.

"I'm sure there's a hole six foot deep with your name on it, somewhere." She muttered, taking another swig of her drink. "Now, what were you complaining about?"

"Unhelpful crazies." He answered, slouching forward.

"And you're willingly associating with them?"

"Shut up." He snapped, "It isn't my fault they ask for unheard of objects before you get to do the fun stuff."

"You know, you aren't a very nice drunk." She said righteously, removing his mug and replacing it with something less alcoholic.

"What does it matter?"

"If you're looking for something, I may be able to help you." She replied, "But I won't if you continue to be boorish."

"Why?"

"I have a feeling I may need your help in the future."

It was Nathan's turn to shoot her an incredulous look but she shrugged it off and asked him what he was searching for.

"A black soul gem."

To his confusion, she started laughing. "You've never heard of a black soul gem?"

"No."

"What kind of Breton are you?"

He sneered at her and returned to nursing his drink. She eventually stopped laughing at him and nudged his arm with her elbow.

"Think it through." She told him, "What is a soul gem?"

"It's a magical object that can capture and hold a soul of a creature or being and can be used for enchanting purposes."

"Now think about the connotations of the word 'black'."

"Negative energy, lack of light. The Black Hand run the Dark Brotherhood, a group of assassins. Blackness, darkness, evil, vampires, necromancers… where are we going with this?"

She placed another drink in front him and told him to drink it.

"Now think harder."

He sipped the drink and mulled over everything. "A magical item that holds souls and dark, evil magic. Vampires have magic."

"No, mages who become vampires have magic." She corrected, urging him to take another sip.

"Necromancers are mages who dabble in dark magic." He took another sip and suddenly spat it out as the answer came to him. He turned to stare at her. "Black soul gems hold human souls?"

She nodded.

"Well, where the hell would I get one of those?" The blood drained from his face, "Do they expect it to be filled?"

"Perhaps they do, perhaps they don't. But I can save you part of the hassle of finding one."

She pulled a small item from her pocket and handed it to him. It was wrapped in cloth and appeared to be about the size of the larger soul gems, but it was so cold.

"Don't pull this out in public. Go back to the shrine and give it to them." She warned him in a low voice.

"Where did you get it?" He asked as he quickly hid it away.

She pulled a face, "Let's just say that there was a certain mage around here who was wearing a mask of civility."

"I hope you've unmasked him then."

She shot him a look that said all that needed to be said. Then she clapped him on the back and told him to be safe. He took this to mean he was being dismissed. He downed the rest of his drink and left the inn, feeling oddly sharp and ready to face the quest before him.

* * *

**We meet again, mortal, for we have met before, whether you know it or not. **

Nathan eyed the Daedra speculatively, wondering where he could have possibly met her before, seeing how he couldn't remember it for the life of him.

Her all-knowing eyes penetrated him and she answered his unspoken question, **When you mutter in your sleep, you speak to me. When you waken wet with sweat, you've just left my house.** She'd delivered this quite spectacularly, with much waving of arms and now she was leaning down toward him, daring him to step back and admit his fear.** I dwell in your dreams; I savour your nightmares. Now, you will serve me.**

Nathan, for some reason, did not feel cowed by her presence, and she seemed to sense this, continuing with her instructions in an imperious tone.

**The wizard Arkved has the Orb of Vaermina… snatched from the dreams of my followers and dragged into the waking world.**

"Well now. Wasn't he a clever bloke?" Nathan mused, "Taking something immaterial like that out of a non-reality and creating a physical construct that retained its cosmic properties as well as a link to your mystical powers. That would take some skill."

From the look on her face, Vaermina was less than impressed.

**Travel to his tower and retrieve my orb. Take care though, mortal. In my Orb, Arkved has found more than he bargained for.**

"Of course he did." Nathan nodded with an authoritative air, "Mortals are ill-equipped for handling Daedric artefacts, particularly ones that have been garnered through pernicious activities. This is for the simple reason that your mana is constructed of substances that are entirely alien to ours, combating at the deepest most obscure levels for dominance and supremacy."

He would have continued with his sublime thesis except that Vaermina had tired of his theory and given a wave of her arm. Her followers dutifully gathered him up and tossed him down the hill to land in the lake.

As he spluttered and choked, and scrambled up the other bank, the potion of intelligence the elf had made him drink wore off and he was left with quite a fuzzy feeling in his head.

* * *

By daybreak, that feeling had worn off and he began to feel comfortable within his own head once more. Excellent timing too, for he was about to step into another man's nightmare.

The tower of Arkved rose up in front of him, retaining its height despite the crumbling walls. Taking a deep breath and double checking all of his gear, Nathan entered the ruin.

The first room seemed normal enough. The table in the centre was set neatly, the silverware of a good standard if a little dusty. He did a quick look around but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

He was feeling quite positive about the whole venture, until he opened the door at the other end of the corridor. That positive feeling didn't disappear but doubt did sneak in. The room was empty, apart for a chest or two, but completely shrouded in cobwebs. He followed the threads of one up a wall and almost fell over when he caught sight of the dining table on the ceiling.

Still, if the worst Arkved had to offer was an inaccessible dinner; Nathan had little to worry about. He continued on, a little rattled, but still optimistic. When the next door swung open, he realised just how stupid he was being, waltzing through the tower like he owned it.

The ensuing fight was probably a lot shorter than it felt, but Nathan came out of it alive, which was always a good thing in his books. He continued on, weighed down a little more, by both his spoils and the increasing doubt as to the ease of success. Dropping through a trapdoor and finding himself precariously balanced on a rock, invisibly suspended in a black void, increased his trepidation.

He inched along the walkway, off put by the fact that there was nothing but inky blackness below him, until he reached the next floating rock. There he took a breather before duplicating the process. He could see flames in the dark ahead of him and he used them as a guide, but they offered little comfort to him with his increasing fear of falling.

* * *

Thankful to be out of the void, Nathan entered the corridor and approached the next room, sneaking this time to avoid alerting any hostile inhabitants. It looked like a forest; a sickly, pale imitation of the woods surrounding the exterior of the tower, as if someone had planted these trees here, deep underground, giving them just enough substance to live but not enough to thrive.

As he looked around, he stumbled into a clannfear and soon found himself fighting off three of the creatures. Wounded and bleeding, he darted through a door, forcing it closed behind him so he could recuperate a little. Closer inspection showed that he'd found another exit which he gratefully pushed through.

He was less grateful when he found himself on a small wooden platform, at the top of a crumbling tower, in the disastrous plane of Oblivion the dark elf had rescued him from. He stumbled through the door, only just catching himself from going over the edge, his eyes and nose burning from a sudden upwards gust of foul, burning air.

Eyes simultaneously watering and drying out, Nathan surveyed the area, only to lose his footing and tumbled off the platform. His fingers were scraped raw by the time he'd found a hand hold and he looked down, fearfully, for a route to the base of the tower.

Feeling silly, for he'd fallen almost the entire way down, and with his entire left arm aching, he dropped the last few feet to the ground and ventured around the tower for another door. He found it and wasted no time exiting that awful plane.

He groaned as he found himself in another dining room; this one at least three sizes too big for ordinary mortals to use.

"What is his fixation on this room?" He moaned, holding his left arm close to his body to prevent further injury. He really should have looked around before saying anything; his groan of disgust catching the attention of the Daedra in the room.

He was inordinately proud of himself for being able to fight them off single-handedly.

He continued on his way after treating most of his wounds and eased into the next room carefully. A glowing red crystal on a pedestal in the centre was much more dangerous than he had thought. He cursed himself for his stupidity in approaching the thing as it shot frost ball after frost ball at him, undoing all of his healing work. Not to mention the two Daedra sharing the space with him. He managed to leave the room, racing down the next corridor and praying it was not a dead end.

Luck was with him and he stumbled out into the next room, only to lose his last meal on the floor.

The sight of blood and corpses, though not welcome, had never overly affected him. This room, however, contained a mess of ragged, bloated corpses and an all pervading stench of blood that overwhelmed his senses. While he was retching on the floor, he discovered a trap door and was quickly through it, hoping to escape from the smell.

"This place is truly a nightmare." He murmured, looking around the place he'd found himself in. Another terrifyingly empty void surrounded a few pillars, but the worst feature was the bodies hanging around him; tortured, bloated, and some on fire to illuminate the entire gruesome display.

Hurrying back up, Nathan than raced as quickly as he was able, through to the next room, his panic aiding his sword arm as he cut through a Spider Daedra with no more thought than he would cut through butter. He raced through the next room as well, ignoring the crystal in the centre as much as the Daedra which were guarding it. He wanted out of this nightmare as quickly as possible and no impertinent, jumped up demons were going to stop him.

Entering the Rending Halls, the name scratched into the door he'd just run full-tilt into, Nathan was once again revolted by the vision before him. Fallen zombies littered the floor and hung from the walls, their cloying stench hanging in the air and gathering in his clothes as he ran forward.

He knew the end was near, and he made short work of the opponents before him, finally finding himself before the door to Arkved's quarters.

The room was chaotic, with the furniture over-turned by protruding rocks and an infernal high pitch whine ringing in his ears. On the bed in the centre lay the person at the centre of this nightmare, Arkved the wizard.

"Arkved the idiot." Nathan grumbled as he stood over the sleeping figure, "Or how about Arkved the obsessed with dinner plates. Here's a good one, Arkved the stupid thief! Only a fool of epic proportions would steal from the Daedric Lord of nightmares. There, you're just looking for trouble."

He rifled through the mage's belongings, looting anything of value and coming upon the ill-famed Orb of Vaermina in the corner. Next to it on the table was a rolled piece of parchment, the hand writing scrawled with an obviously shaking hand.

_There is no world so great as the world of the mind.  
There is no voyager so well-traveled as the traveler in the land of dreams.  
There is no abyss so deep as the well of terror that lies within each of us.  
I have plumbed its depths.  
I have seen the unthinkable. I am unafraid.  
Even death's boundaries do not confine me.  
I am the lord of limitless space, and the master of place and time.  
Through the doors of sleep, the universe lies waiting for me.  
I will no longer wait for my dreams to carry me worlds away, to unknowable deeps, to unspeakable vastness.  
I shall dwell in the House of Vaermina forever, the Orb my companion.  
There is no compass to my destination, no end to my journey.  
My mind is the eternal voyager, fearless and wild with wonder in the Halls of Horror._

"Idiot." Nathan muttered once more, crumbling the sheet up and leaving it with the rest as he took the Orb from its stand. Another door appeared in the wall to his left and he exited without a backward glance.

* * *

**My orb is returned and Arkved will live out his days in nightmare. It is fitting.**

"Too right." Nathan replied, holding the Orb up for Vaermina to take. "Any idiot, who willingly enters a nightmare, deserves whatever you throw at him."

Vaermina smiled down at him, malicious mirth shining from her face. Before he could back up, a staff fell on him, the sudden appearance and weight of it knocking him off his feet.

**You have proved yourself, mortal. It is fitting, as well, that you should bear my token.**

"I think I walked into that one." Nathan muttered, lifting the staff and standing up. The Daedric Lord was still smiling down at him, her look suggesting that she'd grown rather fond of him during the quest.

He backed away as she reverted to stone, leaving the shrine and the crazy sycophants, with his questionable reward, planning on returning to the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn and hopefully some good company.


End file.
